My Day at Avenal State Prison for Men in California

Some of the men were in wheel chairs. Some were coming from and going out to the line in the hall to wait their turn to go to confession. I tried not to appear to notice one man who spent most of the time lifting his shirt and scratching his stomach and chest. His face and chest were covered with red blotches the size of quarters and he seemed very miserable. Later I went to shake his hand and tell him I was praying for his healing and knew he must be uncomfortable. He looked pleased and surprised and thanked me.

In the meantime, some of the men opened a closet and took out a folding altar and opened it up on the stage. The chaplain set up the altar with an altar cloth, two lit candles, a standing metal crucifix, the Mass books, and the Chalice and Paten holding the communion hosts.

A man to the side had an electronic keyboard, and someone had drums, and there were two who had electric guitars. After I ran out of carols, they took over and played Silent Night. We were given yellow sheets of paper on which there were all four verses in both Spanish and English. We sang each verse, first in Spanish and then in English. It was wonderful to see and hear the faith of these inmates. At this time, the door opened and four Hispanic women, probably in their early forties, came in and greeted everyone and sat over to the side. I guessed they were volunteers.

Finally, Father Jim entered, wearing his alb and stole. Father is tall, and has a white beard and a friendly, smiling face. He had entertained me all the way to the prison with tales of his time serving in Hawaii and Hollywood, among other places where he had been stationed over the years.

Then everything grew quiet and I could feel the Holy Spirit in the room. When I looked at the men I could see immortal souls with a great destiny who had gotten off track along the way. I could be wrong, but most of them seemed adjusted to their situation. These were the thirty out of thousands of inmates who had freely chosen to come to confession and Mass. Chaplain Ornellas once said to me that they had more spirituality than some Catholic men outside the prison. We also agreed that these prisoners has more opportunities for spiritual growth because they did have the time, as opposed to men outside the prison who, in Parishes, were often too busy to take advantage of spiritual opportunities.

Father Jim proceeded with the Holy Mass, alternating with great skill, English and Spanish. The inmates took turns coming up, genuflecting, signing themselves with the cross reverently, and doing the readings in English and Spanish for the liturgy of Midnight Christmas Mass, since at midnight on Christmas there would be no liturgy.

Many of the men received Holy Communion. Some of them knelt down facing the seat of their chair, and bowed down in deep prayer and thanksgiving. Again it was very quiet in there. A Christmas peace of sorts. The Mass ended with a blessing by Father Jim for all of us. At the door, each man was given two wrapped burritos and as they came out the door I was there helping hand out sheets of Scripture verses that a man named Manuel, a volunteer, had prepared as a gift. Some of the men thanked me profusely for taking time to come and be with them. Others were shy and hardly looked at me but said a quiet thank you. I was offered a burrito but since I had eaten a banana at 10:30 a.m. in the car, I refused.

By this time it was ten minutes until two o'clock. I admitted to myself that I was already tired. Doing something like I was doing was very draining. However, I knew we were going to Yard Six to start all over again. Things in the Yard Six Chapel went very well, but I saw how different the atmosphere and the men were in each yard. Two volunteer guitarists had been invited to present a Christmas program of Hispanic Carols before Mass, so I did not have as much to do between two and four o'clock, for which I was grateful. In our training we were taught how important our presence was and that we were there to listen and not to solve anything. I sat in a chair with the prisoners and assisted at Holy Mass, which began around three-fifteen after confessions were over. There were no burritos for the men since I guessed they had already had lunch earlier.

Finally at four, good-byes and thank you's were said. Merry Christmas resounded in the Chapel and the hallway. We went out into the chill air and took the van ride back to the main entrance. We managed to fit in the four Hispanic visitors for the ride, too. Chaplain Ornellas assured me he would call again when I could do something to help him at the prison.

Father Jim, by this time, needed a cup of hot coffee but there was none left in the Cafeteria so we stopped at a gas station on the way out of the town for coffee. I cannot drink caffeine due to my medication so I ate the second banana I had brought for him which he did not care for.

The heater in the car helped to ward off the icy cold. It was getting dark and foggy again. We headed back to Fresno, seventy miles away, and again, Father regaled me with stories about his adventures as a Jesuit priest and pastor. I told him briefly that I had taught school and college for a total of fifty-two years and was also an artist. These conversations made the trip seem shorter than it was. When we got out of the car at the Chancery, I asked Father Jim to give me his blessing even though he had done that at the end of the two Holy Masses for that day. He did, and we agreed we would probably see one another again soon, either on earth or in heaven.